


Sit Back, Relax (Relapse)

by cardiac_arrest



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, uni/youtuber au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-01 04:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardiac_arrest/pseuds/cardiac_arrest
Summary: And then the crying starts. It sounds like a male voice, fitful sobs interspersed with short bouts of hiccups. The cries are gut-wrenching, a knife to his heart, and emotional. It’s raw and unbidden. Auston can hear the sheer grief through the walls. It stops just as soon as it starts, almost as if a switch had been flipped to stop the crying.The unease starts flowing. The possibilities flood Auston’s head. He’s wide awake. There’s guilt in his heart, pushing past his annoyance and dragging his body along with it.He gets up, almost mechanically, and takes the stairs up to the second floor.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Auston Matthews
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. this fic in no way suggests that i believe that auston is to be venerated despite all his actions. this is fictional. the characters within this are all fictional.  
2\. i really was deciding on whether or not i should write this/continue to work on it/post it, but god knows why my mind works like why it does. if i want to write mitch, auston follows along.   
3\. i wasnt going to finish/post this until mitch got injured today. so. 
> 
> (also inspired by must have been the wind by alec benjamin)

The flight to Pearson Airport takes a while. The plane lifted off at around five in the afternoon, leaving behind the warm, sunny city of Phoenix, and landing in cold, foreign Canada at twelve in the morning. Auston doesn’t mind the late flight, since the time difference only makes it seem like it’s nine pm. 

There’s not much to complain about, since the plane is fairly empty and the flight void of much turbulence. The view is nice, he gets to see the sun set on the way there. The sparkling lights demarking the city of Toronto is nice, too. He takes his camera out on the flight and films a bit, but the colours just don’t show as well on film. 

When Auston finally gets to disembark, what awaits him is a lot of walking. He grips his duffel a little tighter and hikes it over just a bit higher, staring down the automated walkways interspersed throughout the carpeted floors of the airport terminal. He reaches customs much later than he should be, armed with aesthetically-pleasing footage and drooping eyelids.

The camera strapped to his chest raises questions with the border officer, why is it there? What’s his purpose in Canada? Why is he leaving within the next thirty-six hours? They’re legitimate questions, serving a good cause, but Auston is just on that side of post-plane groggy that he answers the questions with just a bit too much petulance than is appropriate. The officer lets him go when Auston goes through the tedious explanation of his career as an “influencer”, outlining his YouTube career with dread. He hates explaining what he does for a living to people other than him; there’s always contempt and embarrassment. He’s waved off with an amused smile on the woman’s face, a dismissal. 

Auston can’t really do anything except wander off towards the exit where yet another border officer awaits him. He thinks about filming the suspended neon “Canada” sign, but decides against it when he remembers the idea of security risks. He hands off his declaration form to the other officer, his stomach jumping at the prospect of being put under inspection. It doesn’t happen, and he’s officially entered the country of Canada. 

Great. 

He takes his camera out again, as soon as he’s out the sliding doors, and directs it at his face. He usually feels ridiculous when he’s filming by himself, especially in a foreign country where vlogging really isn’t popular, but it isn’t too bad when there’s no one around him. 

“I’ve finally touched down in Toronto,” he says, staring into the camera lens. “The real adventure’s ‘bout to start now. Twelve-something at night and stranded at Pearson Airport.” 

Auston grimaces, cringing from the sound of his voice and the words they carry. He gives up on trying to film anything, the action rubs him the wrong way. It doesn’t feel natural like it usually does. Instead, it feels like he’s forcing himself to do something, to finish his  _ job. _

He shakes his head and focuses on catching a taxi. 

***

The Airbnb Auston booked is shit. There’s no lying about that. That’s probably why the host told him to find the keys under the mat in front of the door to the apartment; no one would want to rob a place with nothing to rob. Next time, he’s going to make the right choice when he books an Airbnb—nothing under twenty dollars. 

Auston wants to look on the bright side of things; he has a place to sleep in, heating, and money. That should be enough. He takes one look inside the place and decides he’s spoiled. 

The place isn’t awful. It doesn’t make him want to throw up or bolt from the vicinity of the area, but it puts him on edge. The brown tint of the walls is from dirt and dust and peeling paint, not a flat coat of beige that Auston thought the walls had been painted in. There are some stains on the ceiling, marring the surface with ugly, grey blobs. The walls are paper thin, letting in sounds from the street and neighbouring units. He can only hope that the bathroom and the bed sheets are clean. 

But he got this entire place for fifteen dollars a night, and that’s not bad at all. It offsets the expensive-as-fuck taxi trip from the airport. Who knew a trip to Hamilton could cost so much in transportation fare? In fact, who knew Hamilton was even a city in Canada? When he decided on the concept of this video, twenty-four hours in a random city, he thought he’d be able to at least pick a city that was somewhat populated. He didn’t expect to throw a dart at an industrial city just west of Toronto, which would’ve made for a much more interesting video. 

Auston should have pretended the dart landed on Toronto and settled there instead. 

He sighs and throws his duffel on a rickety chair in the centre of the one bedroom apartment, untrusting of the grimy cracked tiles smattered across the floor. The bathroom is just as gross as the rest of the place, a musty scent enveloping the enclosure, matching the sorry state of its physical being. Auston grimaces and gets ready to take a shower. He’s glad he brought his own towel. 

By the time he’s able to collapse into the bed that’s somehow both too soft and too hard at the same time, he feels just a little bit better about embarking on a stupid trip like this one. It might not be the most put together idea he’s had for a video, but at least he’s still making one. 

The WiFi’s decent, so Auston grabs his phone and checks a few messages on Instagram. There are a few from his sisters questioning his location, bringing up his mom as well, and a few from friends complaining about the way he ditched them within hours of a planned event. He replies to his sisters with a Canada flag and leaves the rest of the messages on read. 

There’s another reason he went on this trip, one that he only knows. 

He throws his phone back onto the bedside table. The darkness of the room shrouds him again, the beacon of artificial light no longer keeping the anxiety of being in a foreign country completely alone at bay. 

The wind howls outside, branches scratching at the window, and Auston grimaces. The bed screeches. Muffled guitar seeps through the walls. Auston turns over angrily and grasps the camera, turning it on. 

“It’s, like, one-thirty in the morning here in Hamilton, and this guy is still blasting metal. This place is wack,” he mumbles, hoping the camera is able to catch some of his figure in the black of the room. “Not gonna lie, but I expected a bit more from this place from the pictures online. I have no idea what the hell I’ll be doing for the rest of my twenty-four hours, but hopefully it’ll be better than this crap.” 

His lips thin and the music stops.

“Fucking finally,” he says exasperatedly, “guess I’ll get to sleep now.” 

Auston chucks his camera away, his lips rising on their own accord at the prospect of some peace and quiet. He shuts his eyes, relaxing. But then, the yelling starts. 

At first, he doesn’t know where it’s coming from and who it’s coming from. It could be coming from outside, two drunken idiots screaming at each other, or it could be coming from inside. From the unit right above him. It could be a couple, having a fight. 

Glass shatters, following the furious shouts reaching their crescendo. The shrill, ear-grating noise is enough to make him wince and flinch. A door slams above Auston’s head and he burrows further into the covers. The clamour stops. 

He can finally go to bed. 

It takes a while before Auston can settle his nerves down enough to a state where he can sleep. He’s so ready to fall into unconsciousness, but now he can’t stop thinking about the arguing on the floor-above. 

And then the crying starts. It sounds like a male voice, fitful sobs interspersed with short bouts of hiccups. The cries are gut-wrenching, a knife to his heart, and emotional. It’s raw and unbidden. Auston can hear the sheer grief through the walls. It stops just as soon as it starts, almost as if a switch had been flipped to stop the crying. 

The unease starts flowing. The possibilities flood Auston’s head. He’s wide awake. There’s guilt in his heart, pushing past his annoyance and dragging his body along with it. 

He gets up, almost mechanically, and takes the stairs up to the second floor. He reaches the unit just above his Airbnb in mere minutes. His raises his hand and hovers it over the wooden door.

He blinks. What is he doing? His heart pounds. Should he really be sticking his head where it doesn’t belong? Who knows what he’ll be finding behind this door? Is he overstepping? Is he making a big deal out of something that’s actually trivial? Just a disagreement between two people in love. 

But Auston can think. And it doesn’t seem like that’s the situation. The listless crying worms its way back into his head. 

He’s knocking before he can stop himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Auston’s turn to blink in surprise. The sudden change in Mitch’s behaviour catches him off-guard. “Oh, yeah, I’m not from Hamilton. Or Canada. I’m surprised you haven’t recognized me.”
> 
> “Recognized you? Why would I recognize you? I’ve never seen you in my life.”
> 
> And ouch, that one hurts, because Auston does have quite a lot of subscribers. 

The door opens to a young man. He seems to be Auston’s age, if not just a little bit older or just a little bit younger. His brown hair is tousled into spikes, pointing up at the sky in disarray. His eyes are wide, fear and sadness glistening along with the tears matting his eyelashes. They’re rimmed pink, matching his nose. One of his cheeks is redder than the other. There’s a blue mark on the bottom of his jaw, barely covered by the hoodie pulled up over his neck. He looks like the epitome of despair. 

Auston wonders who left him in this state. 

“Hi,” Auston smiles awkwardly. The man looks at him, shrinking back into his hoodie just a little and hiding that blue mark on the bottom of his jaw. Auston doesn’t blame him; his hair is wild and his face is blotchy, he probably looks like some kind of madman. 

“Um, hi,” the man replies, eyes darting away from Auston’s face nervously. He fidgets with his hands, catching Auston’s attention. His hands are elegant, his fingers long and refined with trim nails. There are webs of veins that crawl across the back of his hand, painting it purple and blue. 

“I’m Auston.” 

The man blinks at him. After he realizes that Auston isn’t going to say anything else, he slowly mutters, “I’m Mitch.” 

“Are you okay?” Auston blurts, tact flying out of his repertoire.

The man, Mitch, furrows his eyebrows, and Auston knows it’s a serious situation, knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this, but he can’t help but notice the distinct sense of attraction that runs through his mind. 

“Yes, I’m awesome, thank you for asking,” Mitch murmurs, eyes flitting downwards and away from Auston with the frown still present.

Auston bites his lips and rocks a little on his heel. He considers not asking, but it worries him too much.

“I know I might be overstepping, but I’m staying at the unit right below you and I, uh, heard glass shatter up here. And then… some yelling? Maybe even crying?” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck.

Mitch freezes, and his red-rimmed eyes dart up to pin Auston in place. Auston feels like he’s breached something he shouldn’t have. 

“I… You heard wrong, your ears are playing tricks on you, Mitch pulls the sleeves of his hoodie further down his arms, almost guiltily, “thank you for taking the time to check up on me, but I have to go back in. It must have been the wind.” Mitch retreats further into the collar of the hoodie, almost drowned in fabric. He moves to close the door.

Auston purses his lips, ignoring the finger-shaped bruises on Mitch’s wrist. He doesn’t mention how the action draws more attention to Mitch’s arms. Auston nods curtly, once.

“Yeah, it must have,” he agrees reluctantly. “Have a good rest of the night. Or morning, I guess.”

Mitch gives him the briefest smile before Auston’s looking at off-white paint clobbered with dirt. Auston lets out a deep breath, shoulders sinking as he relaxes he too-tense muscles. He didn’t know he was so worked up about the whole situation.

He trods down back downstairs to his room for the night and slips back into bed. He tries hard to sleep, but the only thing that plagues the darkness of his mind is the flit of Mitch’s eyelashes framing his blue eyes, accentuated by webs of red blood vessels. He only sees pale skin, marred by fresh and old bruises. The quirk of a mouth, slip of a tongue. And the hushed sobbing smothered to nothingness. 

***

The next day, Auston fucks around Hamilton, determined to do something interesting for the video. It’s fairly uneventful since the only place he’s decided to go to is McMaster University. 

Even then, he feels like he’s made a dumb decision. It’s the middle of fall, so the only good thing about being in McMaster is the vibrant hues of the changing colours of the trees. It’s mainly red and gold, but the colours are striking against the baby blue sky. 

But as he proceeds further into McMaster, he realizes there isn’t much to see. It doesn’t impress him, and the buildings seem… lacking. 

Auston takes out his camera for most of his adventure, recording a few shots here and there as he wanders through the brick and concrete buildings. He fucks around in the book store, complaining about the dismal variety within the sale section as quietly as possible. He plays around with a stress ball, too, hoping he doesn’t seem like a lunatic as he swings around his GoPro.

Eventually, he wanders into a study space. He isn’t sure how he got in, but the architecture seems interesting enough for a montage of shots slapped together, so he barges in. There’s not much he can do to vary the shot types, but he’s at least go the zoom-in function and his limbs. 

It’s only when he’s reviewing the footage that he’s taken that Auston realizes one of the students studying is Mitch. 

Mitch sits in one of the many orange armchairs facing the giant glass window that takes up the entire wall, curled up with a heavy-looking textbook and a cup of Starbucks. He wears another oversized hoodie with the hood drawn over his head and sleeves wrapped around his hands. 

Auston is walking towards him before he realizes it. He looks at the GoPro in his hand and fumbles with it in nervousness before shoving it into his back pocket. 

“Mitch?” Auston calls, reaching the armchair next to Mitch. 

Mitch turns his head, like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes are wide and his lips are chapped. Recognition sparks in his eyes and he relaxes. 

“Hi,” Mitch mumbles timidly as Auston sits on the arm of the armchair closest to Mitch. 

Auston smiles. There’s a brief silence. “So, are you a student at McMaster?”

“Um, yeah.” Mitch looks back down at his textbook, hands clenching the glossy pages harder, knuckles turning white. 

Auston’s gaze travels with the action. Bandages. “What do you major in?”

“I’m, uh, actually doing Health Sci,” Mitch says and ducks his head. He slams his textbook closed to the back cover. Auston almost jumps in surprise.

“Oh, wow, sounds hard,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

Mitch frowns. “Wait, don’t you go to McMaster, too? Why do you not know Health Sci? Why aren’t you acting weird about it?”

It’s Auston’s turn to blink in surprise. The sudden change in Mitch’s behaviour catches him off-guard. “Oh, yeah, I’m not from Hamilton. Or Canada. I’m surprised you haven’t recognized me.”

“Recognized you? Why would I recognize you? I’ve never seen you in my life.”

And ouch, that one hurts, because Auston does have quite a lot of subscribers. 

“Auston Matthews? I’m a YouTuber from Arizona. That’s why I have a, uh, GoPro.” He waves his GoPro in front of Mitch. 

Mitch stares at him blankly. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“Can’t say that’s not a blow to my ego,” Auston laughs. “Guess I gotta work harder then.”

Mitch’s eyes widen again, except this time, it looks more natural than the fear did minutes ago. 

“Man, I’m so sorry, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I really haven’t seen any of your videos.” And Mitch looks so genuinely contrite that Auston wants to scoop him up and lock him up where no harm can reach him.

He feels a worrying amount of protectiveness for Mitch. It makes him even angrier.

“It’s fine, Mitchy, keeps my mind back on earth, you know?” Auston smiles.

Mitch relaxes, and the smile creeps into his eyes, just a little. “Yeah. You wouldn’t want to become one of those ‘influencers’.”

“What if I am one of those ‘influencers’?”

Mitch looks at him in horror. “Oh God, are you?”

“Of course not!” Auston laughs. “Would one of those ‘influencers’ take a twenty-four-hour trip to Hamilton just to spice up their content?”

“I mean,” Mitch smirks, “it’s not like I’m a YouTuber. But I guess they wouldn’t.”

“Exactly. One of a kind here, baby,” Auston grins, revelling as Mitch laughs. 

Auston thinks he’s going to get his heart ripped out when Mitch has to leave the library. The heartiness and unapologetic authenticity of Mitch’s laugh chains him.

He’s ruined.

***

In the end, Auston manages to convince Mitch to go for a cup of coffee. Except, they don’t go for coffee, because Mitch hates the taste of coffee. He walks with Mitch, outside for a few minutes in the cold, to the Chatime that’s just opened on campus. He knows so because Mitch told him, beaming as if going to a bubble tea store will make his day. 

“I don’t usually get bubble tea,” Mitch explains, slinging his backpack higher on a shoulder, “it’s obviously bad for you, but I can make an exception for a big YouTuber like you.” Auston may or may not have puffed his chest out, responding to the compliment. 

“Only the best for me, yeah?” Auston smiles, sticking his hand further in his jacket pocket. 

“The best for you,” Mitch snorts, throwing his head back and blinking up at the sky. The sunshine makes his eyelashes golden. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night, then yeah.”

Auston stops walking abruptly, standing stock still. Mitch’s smile slips off his face, and the fear shoves its way back onto his face. 

“Auston,” he says, his voice trembling, “that was a joke, I didn’t me—”

Auston ignores Mitch, rushing towards him and shoving his cold hand down Mitch’s nape. Mitch shrieks, laughing as he flinches away from Auston’s frigid skin.

“Oh wow, you’re an asshole,” Mitch laughs, punching Auston in the arm, the arm that was down Mitch’s shirt. 

“That’ll teach you,” Auston jokes, a smug smile on his face. 

“You know,” Mitch says mischievously, clutching his textbook closer to his chest, “maybe I won’t take you to Chatime. Doesn’t seem like you deserve to go.” 

“No!” Auston interjects. Mitch laughs in surprise. “There’s no Chatime in Scottsdale.” 

“Sounds like a you problem,” Mitch shrugs. They end up going to Chatime anyways and Auston wins. 

By the time Auston returns to his miserable Airbnb, he thinks he has enough footage for a ten-minute video. At least. He has the clips from the library, a few shots of the restaurant he went to for lunch, and at least two minutes of him complaining about the eighteen dollars he had to pay to get into the Royal Botanical Gardens. 

He also has a shot of Mitch, smiling and holding up peace signs as they waited in line at Chatime. He has a shot of them both, clinking their plastic cups of bubble tea together as if the moment was supposed to be celebrated. He has a shot of Mitch sipping his bubble tea, eyes closed in contentment, a gentle smile on his lips. He has a shot where both of them are ribbing each other, and it reminds him of his parents. 

Auston shakes his head, dislodging the inappropriate thoughts. He needs to back whatever he’s taken out of his duffel since his flight is in a few hours that night. 

When evening rolls around, he hears Mitch moving upstairs. Well, he suspects it’s Mitch since Mitch told him it was his apartment. 

A split decision arises in his mind. He ends up taking the risk because it seems he’ll always take the risk for Mitch.

***

“Hey,” Mitch calls from behind Auston, “I saw your note.”

Auston turns and offers Mitch a smile, patting the ledge next to him. “Yeah? I was hoping you’d see it and join me.”

“The roof eh? Interesting place to meet,” Mitch smiles, moving silently to Auston’s left. 

“You know,” Auston begins, looking out into the distance, “when I first arrived in Hamilton, I was like, this place seems really shitty. I got into that Airbnb, and I was like, yeah this place is shitty.”

He pauses. He glances in Mitch’s direction. The wind tousles Mitch’s hair. 

“But then, I met you, and I thought maybe Hamilton wasn’t that bad after all.”

“Auston…” Mitch says, looking up at Auston with a worried and sad look. He reaches a hand out, before retracting it.

Auston shushes him lightly, with a little grin. “And I obviously don’t know your situation at all.” Mitch looks away, ashamed. “But I want to know more? And, like, if you aren’t ready then you aren’t ready. But I’m always down to listen.”

Mitch hesitates, his gaze focused on his hands, still covered by his gigantic hoodie. 

“That means a lot to me,” Mitch says, tentatively smiling.

Auston nods. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving in a bit, my plane’s at eight. But, you have my number, right?”

“Yeah, it was on the note.”

Auston smiles, turning and taking one of Mitch’s hands into his own. He presses a kiss into Mitch’s knuckles, rubbing a thumb over the bruises on Mitch’s wrist. He brushes a lock of hair from Mitch’s eyes, trying to memorize the stunned look on Mitch’s face. 

“Then, you can text me first,” Auston says. 

He lets go of Mitch’s hand and ruffles his hair. 

He uploads the video a week later—half of it includes Mitch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> epilogue: mitch breaks up with his stupid boyfriend after being friends with auston for a few months (they talk over facetime, skype, whatever). auston ends up moving to toronto after mitch gets into u of t med school, and they have their first "date" back at mcmaster chatime. auston hates tapioca because its too sticky and sweet and mitch makes fun of him every time they get bubble tea. 
> 
> hey fuck the leafs amirite, hockeys cancelled boys

**Author's Note:**

> i have a tumblr. its @mitcheemarns. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
